


Why Don't They Look Like Me?

by blametheone



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Implied Larry, Implied Ziam, Islamophobia, M/M, Muslim - Freeform, Oh god, Sad, Zayn Malik - Freeform, bullied, i need to stay away from controversy, ignorance, im scared okay, islamaphobia, yaaaaaay, zayn centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:24:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4105777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blametheone/pseuds/blametheone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn is not like the other boys at school.</p><p>Zayn is not like the other boys in his band.</p><p>Zayn is not like the others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Don't They Look Like Me?

**Author's Note:**

> i don't write about this, i don't read fanfics like this, because i like hiding away from controversy and things that i'm not completely knowledgeable in. (like, i'm knowledgeable in the ISSUE, i mean come on i live in AUSTRALIA for fucks sake i know how big the goddamn issue is - but no matter what grades i got in my religions class or how respectful i may be, i am in NO WAY qualified to talk about Islam.)

"Why don't they look like me?" Zain mumbled, clutching his Mummy's hand as Doniya ran around with their cousins in the backyard.

"Because you look like your Daddy," Trisha smiled warmly, and Zain smiled back with a giggle because at three years old that was a good thing.

\---

"Why don't they look like me?" Zain sighed, almost whining, as his Mummy took him up to his classroom and he watched the children running around on the playground.

Yellow hair, brown hair, orange hair, blue shorts, pink skirt, white shirt, pale skin, pale skin, pale skin.

"I..." Trisha sighed, pulling up composure with the corners of her lips. "Because you're much more handsome than all of them, just like your father."

"Just like Daddy?"

"Just like Daddy."

On the first day of school, five years old, that was still a good thing.

It wasn't until he was seven that the kids in his year realised what was wrong. When culture and tradition and religion and skin tone suddenly became a noticeable thing.

Six year olds were blissfully ignorant.

Seven year olds knew exactly how to bully one for their race and religion.

He was  _seven_.

\---

"Why don't they look like us?" Zain sighed, looking up at his sister who was completely engrossed in some modelling show. "You're pretty, Wali's pretty-"

"You're ugly, but Saf is pretty, so is Mum  _and_ Dad," Doniya finished for him, ignoring the glare from the 'ugly' comment. "You've told me this all before."

"Yeah," Zain drawled, propelling his thirteen year old body into his sister's lap, stirring her protest. "So why don't they look like us?"

Doniya sighed and slapped his head.

"You know why, you know exactly why, Zain. What's the point of bringing it up?"

Zain put his head in his hands and sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

"If we talk about it, it might change?"

Doniya scoffed and rolled her eyes at him.

"Yes, Pakistani boy telling his Pakistani sister about racial problems in the hope that talking to her might change the world's mind," she drawled sarcastically. "Grow a brain, man."

\---

 _'Why don't they look like me?_ ' Zain thought to himself as he looked around at the boys around him. Pristinely cream skin, bright eyes and coloured hair. Blue, blue, brown, green. No murky, cross-breeder hazel that turned gold and green and blue and brown. Chocolate, chestnut, sandy, blonde. No black, no raven. No straight noses, no sloped eyes, no  _taqiyah_ , no  _biryani_ , no  _Qu'uran_ and  _no being bullied for having tanned skin._

He hated them. At least, he wanted to. They never had to put up with all the shit he went through, he did well in school, and tried  _so fucking hard_  to do WELL, and to _make FRIENDS_ ,  _these idiots NEVER HAD TO TRY._

"Hi, I'm Zain," he forced an almost-real-looking smile to fall across his lips as they introduced themselves. 

Harry, Liam, Louis, Niall... he stuck out like a fucking sore thumb.

\---

"I was bullied too..." Liam mumbled into his neck one night. "You talk in your sleep, sorry."

Zayn blinked and waited for the continuation, not wanting to speak and not finding the right words anyway. Liam got the hint to continue and pulled Zayn closer.

"I was bullied in school, like, all the time. Because I was born with medical problems and because of that one time some girl made up a rumour I have a small dick and... I don't know... It's not the same, I now, but-"

"What medical problems?" Zayn frowned, turning so they were face to face and still pressed just as close. Liam's eyebrows raised a slight and he blinked a bit.

"I, um..." he stuttered. "Just, like, kidneys and immunity... it's not that big of a deal."

Zayn took biology, he knew how big of a deal that was.

"Just race and religion, not that big of a deal, eh?"

Liam chuckled, finding relief in someone not stressing over him. He liked support, sure, but he couldn't explain why sometimes he wanted to rant and rave and ramble on about his hospital stories, and other times he shuddered at the thought of talking about it. Zayn got it, though.

"You're really great," Liam mumbled, pushing hair off of Zayn's fringe. "You know? Don't listen to the shit online. You know by now how-"

"They think I'm a terrorist," Zayn blurted. "They think I had an involvement in nine-eleven, Liam, I was eight years old. Someone said somewhere that Osama was my father-"

"Zee," Liam cut him off. "Stop. Are you a terrorist?"

Zayn pulled back and gaped at Liam in disgust.

"Of fucking course not!!"

"Were you involved in the Twin Towers?"

_"No-"_

"Your father's name is Yaser not Osama, yeah?"

Zayn sighed kid of fondly because he had mispronounced his father’s name but mostly because he was trying to make a point, "Liam-"

"People say things to try and get in your head. At least you know that all of those things aren't true," Liam's eyes went dull and sad and he hid it well but Zayn had spent enough nights closely cuddled like this to know exactly what Liam was feeling just by his eyes.

"Yeah, well, I've never seen one bad thing about you that's true, so I guess everyone's ignorant, yeah?" Zayn pushed two fingers to Liam's cheek with a soft, worried expression furrowing his eyebrows. "If mine aren't true then yours aren't either."

Liam chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Alright. Can we sleep now? I'm tired."

\---

"Why don't they all look like you, mate?" Louis pushed his legs with a grumbling scowl on his face and a 'humph!'-ish tone to his voice. "They're all stick thin and like  _'oh I'm African American!'_  when they're the colour of  _Harry."_

Louis looked over at him, taking a moment before clicking his tongue.

"Nope, I'm too used to staring at you, no one's cheekbones are right anymore."

Zayn scoffed out a laugh. "Wow, Lou, I didn't know you felt this way, man."

"Shut up, you tosser," Louis huffed and crossed his arms. "I'm just saying, America's Next Top Model should get better looking models. You know?"

"I know."

"Okay, good, I was worried about how gay that sounded."

Zayn erupted into a fit of laughter and Louis looked over with a hurt and confused expression.

"What??"

"You're sitting next to me in a fucking rainbow shirt, you bitch slapped me for the remote so you could watch Top Model, you compared a model to your boyfriend and you're worried about  _THAT_ soundin' too gay?" Zayn giggled, watching Louis' face fall back into a scowl.

"Well, Malik, I take back what I said about your cheekbones. They can't cut steel, I was lying."

\---

_#ZaynMalikBombTheBoys_

He closed his eyes and thought of home rather than the bullshit going on right now. He needed home, he needed home, he needed-

"Liam," Zayn breathed as familiar arms wrapped around him from behind.

"You left too quickly," the soft voice mumbled into his shoulder. "Don't drop shit like that and walk out, please?"

Zayn nodded and squeezed his eyes shut tight the moment he felt burning he was  _not going to cry._

"I'm... I-I'm r-really fu-ucking so-sorry-"

"No," Liam kissed the corner of his mouth, "No, Zee, shut up."

"I left."

"Good," Liam exhaled heavily. "I worry about you. I'm really, really worried, all the time, okay?"

Arms wrapped tighter and Zayn willed the tears dampening his eyelashes to disappear magically.

"I'm mad," Liam admitted honestly. "Because I would have liked a bit more warning, maybe, but this is probably for the best."

Standing still and silence and sound and sniffles and sorry, sorry _, sorry,_  fresh tears decided they didn't want to listen to Zayn anymore and just fell because why not and,

"I love you," Liam sighed, high-pitched and strained. "I want you back in but I don't because this is best and I don't know what to think, Zee. I just love you."

Zayn moved so they were chest to chest, his arms wrapping tightly around Liam's neck, face in the junction of his jaw.

"I love you, too."

\---

 **Louis;**  fucking hate you.  
 **Louis;**  love you  
 **Louis;**  oh my god you're conflicting you shit  
 **Louis;**  just don't bomb us aha xx  
 **Louis;**  Liam just read over my shoulder I WAS KIDDING  
 **Louis;**  maaaaaaate?  
 **Louis;**  zaaaaaaaaaaaaaayn?  
 **Louis;**  I WAS JOKING.  
 **Zayn;**  calm your shit.

\---

"Why don't they look like me?" Annabelle questioned, looking up at her Papa who had no fucking clue how to explain to a four year old girl that she was Arabic and the other kids were not and that's why she looked different when-

"Because you look like your Papa," Liam supplied, picking up their baby girl and pushing back her thick, dark curls.

"Absolutely gorgeous."

**Author's Note:**

> i've probably just pissed off everyone. i'm really sorry if i hurt/offended you in any way.


End file.
